


Actions (Betray the Truth of the Heart)

by wintershelter



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Episode: s01e10 Progeny, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintershelter/pseuds/wintershelter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick helps patch Len up after the events of 1x10 "Progeny".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Actions (Betray the Truth of the Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed and completely unplanned. Enjoy!

“Lips and tongues lie. But actions never do. No matter what words are spoken, actions betray the truth of everyone's heart.”  
― Sherrilyn Kenyon

 

Len had almost made it to his quarters before the silence was interrupted by a voice behind him.

“You should put some salve on those bruises.”

Len felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward, the movement irritating the cut on his lip.

“Careful, Mick,” Len drawled, before turning around. “It almost sounds like you care.”

He knows he looks like shit. He had just re-opened his split lip. He tasted the iron of it on his tongue. The bruises he’s sporting throb with every beat of his pulse. It hurts, but every twinge of pain was worth it. Completely worth it to have Mick out of that cell and tentatively on their side, if you can call it that. Well, at least Mick wasn’t planning on killing anyone on the ship and that was a far cry better than it was yesterday.

Regardless, he still doesn’t know why Mick was pestering him now.

Len would normally try to read Mick but honestly, he was too tired for this. He turned back towards his room and opened the door. Mick took that as an invitation to follow him inside. Mick shut the door behind them as Len sat down gingerly on the bed, trying not to shift too much. Len had hit the ground hard and he had no illusion that his back was a mottled mosaic of black and blue that matched his face.

Mick moved fluidly towards Len’s bathroom before disappearing inside. It was still a little unnerving to see the man so controlled. The movements looked completely wrong on him. Len felt a pang for Mick’s brash gestures and heavy-footed walk, how the man never adhered to social norms of being quiet and polite. Damn him if he didn’t actually miss it. Maybe this was destiny’s cruel joke for all the times Len had bitched about Mick’s behavior. 

Len observed Mick with heavy lidded eyes as he made his way over to Len. He had a first aid kit in hand, but it wasn’t the Waverider’s one, filled with futuristic tech. Len’s heart skipped a beat when he realized that Mick was holding his old kit.

Len had learned early on that it was best to keep one close at hand. There were some nights when Lewis was feeling incredibly vindictive and after knocking Len around, he would lock him up in his room. Len had gotten very good at patching himself up under the moonlight streaming in his bedroom window. Even decades older and with Lewis six feet under, it was still a habit he had yet to shake.

Mick almost looked as if he was going to sit down next to Len on the bed before he thought better of it. He came to a half crouch, half kneeling position in front of him. Mick unzipped the kit and rummaged around for the salve he knew was in there. Len watched as he paused when he found the small jar. His fingers skimmed the surface for a beat, he wrapped his fingers around it.

He set the bag down and unscrewed the container. He flicked his eyes up to meet Len’s and raised an eyebrow in silent question. Len studied Mick’s face before letting out a quiet breath and nodding.

Mick swiped his finger over the cream and slowly brought his hand up to Len’s face. He settled the bruise below his right eyes. Mick delicately touched the tender skin and eased his fingers across the length of the bruise. Len felt something akin to nostalgia bubble in his chest, because they had done this many times before.

This was Mick when he had seen the bruises Lewis left on him. This was Mick after Len gotten hurt on a job gone wrong. This was Mick after the fire burned too bright in his veins and he’d lashed out at the only person standing between him and his compulsion. This was Mick caring for Len.

As Mick continued his ministrations, a comfortable silence stretched between them. Neither of them felt the need to speak. There was no place for words here tonight.

In their world of crime and lies, words were flimsy at best, judged only by the honor of who was saying them. Criminals constantly said one thing then did another. Being double and tripled crossed was a common occurrence. He’d lied to Mick and he didn’t doubt that Mick had lied to him in turn. Words didn't hold much strength in their relationship, never really had. Actions, however… actions were the currency in their world.

Len acknowledged that that was one of the reasons why Mick had been so pissed about Star City 2046. Len had openly admitted to lying to Mick and tried to give him one of his speeches, but Mick had been done listening long before he’d opened his mouth. Len had told him all he needed to know when he had punched Mick out. Those actions spoke louder than any promises of glory or explanations he’d had ready on his tongue.

Mick’s actions now were incredibly telling. Mick’s touches were feather-light and almost hesitant on his skin. He tenderly stroked his fingers over the bruises with controlled movements. These things were significant, but that was not what was holding most of Len’s attention. Len was completely focused on the expression on Mick’s face. 

His eyebrows were furrowed slightly as he worked, but his face looked soft, softer than Len had remembered seeing on the man since he had unmasked himself as Chronos. When Mick pressed a little too hard on one bruise and Len’s breath hitched in his throat before he could stop himself, Mick blinked and immediately moved his fingers back. He may have caused this damage, but Mick was doing his hardest to prevent any further harm.

That was not to say that Mick attending to his wounds was an apology by any means. It wasn’t and for that Len was grateful. He didn’t want an apology. He knew what he was signing up for the second he opened up the cell door. He knew he was going to walk away in a world of hurt, if he managed to walk away at all. That was on him. What Mick was doing here was something deeper than some half-assed plea for forgiveness. This was something personal.

Mick finished applying the last of the ointment and screwed the cap back on. He put the salve back in the kit and zipped it closed before setting it down on the bed. He did a quick once over of Len’s face before his eyes settled on the fresh blood that beaded his lower lip. Mick gently thumbed over the cut, examining it, before moving his gaze upward.

Len wasn’t entirely sure what Mick saw when he looked at him, but he saw a flicker of emotion pass through Mick’s blue eyes, before he carefully dropped his hand down to Len’s knee.

Mick held the contact for another breath before releasing his hold and while Len couldn’t be entirely sure, he could have sworn Mick gave his leg a barely there squeeze before he did so. Mick was standing back up in a seamless motion. Len lifted his head to look at Mick, tilting his head.

“Get some sleep,” was all Mick said, before turning on his heel and heading out the door to the ship’s hallway.

Len watched as he snicked the door into place. It wasn’t lost on Len that Mick had closed the door with the same kind of gentleness that he had used on his skin.

He didn’t know what this interaction meant for them moving forward but given how many times he got hit in the head today, he thought he was justified in foregoing thinking in favor of sleep, at least for a little while. He considered just toeing off his boots and laying down, but knowing that was a bad idea decided against it.

He barely managed to change into his sweats, each movement jarred his sore muscles and bruises. He had to grip the dresser hard for a moment, to steady himself. After breathing through the pain, he found enough strength to walk over to his bed.

Once he got under the covers, he drifted off easily enough, the events of the day finally having caught up to him. He didn’t get more than a few hours shut eye before Gideon voice roused him from his slumber.

Standard concussion protocol, the AI had told him, but Len narrowed his eyes in suspicion, which he regretted immediately because a) he had two black eyes and b) Gideon couldn’t even appreciate the gesture.

“Awww, Gideon. I didn’t know you cared.”

“I was informed that you would require medical assistance tonight.”

Well, that certainly piqued Len’s interest. He had just been joking with the AI, but apparently someone had been concerned for him.

“Really? And who was it that asked you to check on me?”

“I was specifically told not to disclose the person’s identity.”

“Specifically told?” Len asked, incredulously.

“Threaten is another word that would fit in this certain context.”

Len snorted. “Was it the same person who was in my quarters earlier?”

“Perhaps. Again, Mr. Snart, I am not at liberty to say.” 

That was about as close as a confirmation the Len would get from Gideon, but he didn’t need one. No one else in the Waverider had a reason to hide their concern for him, no one except for Mick.

Len closed his eyes and felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in weeks. Today had been painful in more ways than one, but it had also been necessary. He didn’t regret what had happened, and although he would be feeling the physical reminders for days, the aftermath of those actions were what was truly important.

He took in a breath, inhaling as deep as his injuries would allow. As he released the breath, the ghost of a smile curled on his lips. He let the silence of the ship lull him back to sleep. He drifted off on a memory of wood smoke and rumbling laughter and of a man who would have his back no matter what.


End file.
